


An Old Temptation

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Attraction, Community: sga_kinkmeme, F/M, Relationship Study, Resolved Sexual Tension, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a thing about the curve of Teyla's bare hip, because her trousers ride to just below her belly button and the slit in her skirts comes up to her thigh, but that line of her hip is unseen territory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Old Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the sga_kinkmeme - the prompt is the summary.

He notices Teyla's a beautiful woman from the start. A man would have to be blind and stupid not to see it - or possibly gay, although gay doesn't preclude seeing she's beautiful, only on being attracted to her.

John's definitely attracted.

But it's strictly hands off as far as aliens go - especially attractive alien women who are a galaxy away from your family and what they'd think of you if you let your hand linger places you shouldn't.

In those earliest days - particularly when her people are around and watching him with little smirky grins on their faces - John carefully keeps his hands to himself.

Oh, certain touches are allowed - hands on hands, arms, shoulders, back. Waist, hip, thigh, and butt are very much off-limits.

But he's allowed to look, isn't he?

\--

"Isn't that...I don't know...indecent?" McKay mutters as Teyla walks into the locker rooms in one of her tops and a BDU bottom.

John gives the scientist a repressing glance and smiles easily at Teyla. "How're the BDUs?"

Her expression is wry. "They do not fit as comfortably as my own. And the waist is lower than is customary among my people. However, Dr. Weir has indicated that this is the current fashion on Earth?"

"Well, as much as BDUs are ever in fashion," Ford says, strapping his sidearm on with an easy grin.

"You can wear your own clothing if you want," John hastens to say, although he thinks it'd be a pity. She's got a nice belly, and he can almost see the dimples in her back if he looks. Which he doesn't. Because that would be inappropriate scoping out of his team-mate.

She keeps wearing the BDU trousers, varying the tops since she doesn't like the way the Earth shirts fit - something about tailored clothing vs. mass produced.

John keeps not-looking at her dimples.

\--

He thinks of Luke Skywalker, learning how to feel the Force flowing through him while holding a handstand.

Luke Skywalker never had to duel with Teyla Emmagan. He'd probably have been distracted, too.

John ends up on his knees, on his back, at her mercy - unfortunately not in the good way. And each blow she delivers ratchets him up another notch, winds him that little bit tighter.

On the way back to their quarters afterwards, John is more than a little uncomfortable. He'll jerk himself off in the shower, but the walk back is several kinds of exquisite torture.

It's the skirts that do it, he thinks as he glances sideways at her. It's the way they swirl, revealing and concealing with every movement. It's the fact that she doesn't seem to realise what the fabric does to her legs, making a mystery of them, covering up the long line of her hip, from slim waist to slender thigh.

"John?" They've reached the split between the corridors leading to their personal space already, and he was daydreaming.

"Sorry," he says, dragging back his thoughts. "My mind was elsewhere. Thanks for putting up with me in the lessons."

She turns away with a friendly smile and John lets out a long breath. It wouldn't be appropriate to say he was wondering what it would feel like to slide his fingers down over the curve of her hip.

\--

Teyla usually sleeps on her back, her hands folded over her stomach, like the dead laid out for burial.

John knows this because his team has the occasional off-world stay-in-the-guesthouse mission, and sometimes they stay back with the Athosians overnight. There may not be any cops to hand him a DUI, but John wouldn't want to crash the 'jumper on the way back, even if he's pretty sure it would fly in straight lines all the same. That _ruus_ wine would be under ATF investigation if it were sold on Earth.

Lying on her back isn't an option right now, so they've piled pillows up so she can sort of sleep on her stomach. And she's sprawled across the infirmary bed with the look of someone who's seriously exhausted.

John isn't about to wake her. But he stands at the door of her room for nearly a minute before he turns around and goes back out.

He lies in bed that night and doesn't think about how easy it would have been to brush his fingers down the line of her hip, with only the thin hospital gown to keep skin from meeting skin.

Very wrong, but also very hot.

\--

They're both shivering as they tread water while waiting for Rodney to work out how to operate the lift descent. Fortunately, the creatures who used to swim in these waters are long since dead, and there's only the two of them and the salty, salty sea.

"Rodney," Teyla says, and her teeth chatter.

"Look, I can't get this done if you keep interrupting me!" And, to give Rodney his due, he's working as fast as he can. It's just not fast enough. Ronon's gone looking for a rope or something, but John's not optimistic.

John swims around the edge of the enclosure, looking for something - a handhold, a foothold - anything. And finds a ledge. Just big enough for one person. Or two if they squish together really close.

As in really _really_ close.

"Teyla?" He beckons her over, and she swims over, more tired than she. "There's not much to it, but it's better than nothing."

She seems to take it as going without saying that they're going to share. So John ends up with Teyla in his arms. Or, more correctly, with his hands on Teyla's hips pulling her up against him.

John wonders what she'd do if he slid his hands inside the waistband of her trousers and stroked that curve, ever so gently.

\--

It's a DC function of some kind or another. And if the plan was to short-circuit every male brain in the room by letting Vala pick Teyla's gown, then they can consider it an unmitigated success.

All night, Ronon's been reaching for weapons he's not allowed to carry.

John hasn't got weapons - just tact and diplomacy. God help them all.

Teyla snags him on her way out to the balcony, interrupting his conversation with Senator David Wilkes. "Colonel, do you have a moment?" She tilts her head at him, ignoring Wilkes' leer as they step out into the crisp air of DC in March. "You seemed to need a rescue."

"I did. You wanted a breather?"

"It is very stuffy in there." She shivers a little - and not surprising, since her gown is maybe one molecule thick. John hesitates a moment, then lifts his arm. He nearly drops it as her brows rise, but after a moment she steps in close and they stand quietly together.

He doesn't mean to stroke his fingers down the line of her hip. It's the alcohol and the cool night and the dress on her and John thinking about the dress off her when he really really shouldn't.

\--

"John?"

"Mm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Giving in."

"Perhaps I should not ask what you are giving in to?"

John slides his fingers over the bare hip snugged in behind him and grins. "An old temptation."


End file.
